


A Kiss for Good Luck

by RedHeadedBastards



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Angels, Fluff, Gay, Gay Disasters, Idiots in Love, Kiss on the Cheek, LGBT characters, M/M, One Shot, Ronan is dramatic and gay, Unresolved Romantic Tension, mlm, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHeadedBastards/pseuds/RedHeadedBastards
Summary: Ah shi’.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Ronan Mulcahey/Wen Beckman
Kudos: 4





	A Kiss for Good Luck

“Ya go’ yer list?”

At the doorway stood Mulcahey and Beckman, the former adjusting the latter’s sweater. The angel was leaving to get the groceries for the first time so Ronan made sure he had everything he needed with him.

“Yes, right here.” Wen showed the paper off proudly, slightly crumpled in his grip. The Irishman nodded, straightening out his collar and reaching down to pull the hem over his jeans. He was reminding himself of his own mother, the thought quickly bringing his arms back to his chest, “Good, an’ ya grabbed tha money, righ’?”

The taller of the two nodded, a smile brightening his face, “Yes, it’s right here in my back pocket.” He confirmed, patting the back of his jeans. 

“Grea’. An’ ya remember where tha store is?” Ronan asks, crossing his arms and looking up at the other.

“‘Take two rights then follow down John Stenhouse road until you see Mike’s Stop and Shop’ is what Margo told me.”

“Perfec’.” He pushes Wen out the door, “Ya remember tha’ an’ ya will ge’ there jus’ fine.”

Ronan leans against the doorway and watches the angel go over the checklist one more time with a fond look.

“Hey.”

Turning his head expectantly, the “Yes?” At the tip of Wen’s tongue never left his lips. The half angel’s hands pulling him down by the neck and the feeling of his lips pressing against his cheek shocked Beckman speechless.

They stood like that for a moment, then two, then three until suddenly Ronan shoved him away, face burning a bright red and eye looking everywhere except at Wen himself.

The Irishman opened his mouth to explain himself but he couldn’t form any words. He closes his mouth, swallows, and tries again but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. So instead he steps inside and slams the door shut, leaving the angel outside on the doorstep.

‘Wha’ tha fuck did I jus’ do.’

Ronan grabs at his scalp and panics, face burning hot as his mind rushes a million miles an hour to figure out what the  _ hell he just did. _

‘I’s fine- i’s fine.” He rationalizes to himself, taking a breath to calm himself down, “I’ll jus’ go back ou’ there an’ jus’- explain myself. I’s fine.”

He slaps his hands over his face, whining quietly into the flesh of his palms. Who was he kidding? He could never show his face in front of Wen ever again. He had to pack his things and leave immediately, he had to skip town. There was no more hope for him here anymore. He didn’t even have time to pack. Fuck it, he’d leave without his things. He’d live as a hobo for the rest of his days, a vagabond eating out of people’s trash cans as he roughs it out in the wild. Then one day he’d die. Just die a slow, painful, embarrassing death because he had to leave everything he knew and cared about behind. All because he was a stupid fucking dumbass and kissed Wen.

Did he have enough time to write a will?

He groaned and slammed his head into the door, causing a yelp from the man on the other side.

Shit. He was still there.

Instead of taking the opportunity to explain himself to the other, like any rational human being, he instead turns and books it through the house. He runs down the hall, throws the bedroom door open, slams it closed and crashes onto the bed. Burying his face into his pillow he lets out a long, dramatic cry into the cushion. Ronan would never leave the room again.

___

A truck slowly drove up the old dirt road to the cabin, pulling up next to the man who stood out on its front step; frozen still in the five hours since he stepped out that morning. Once parked an old woman shambled out from the front seat and grabbed at her bag, “Shorty, you wouldn’t believe what Emmett did-“

She looks up and realizes that he wasn’t responding, still as unmoving as he was when she pulled up. Slamming the door shut and shuffling up beside him she takes a look at his face. It was absolutely blank, eyes vacant as they stared at the front door to her cabin. The only thing that showed life on him was his pink cheeks, and his right hand that rested on one of them.

“Wen?” She called out, waving her hand in front of his face. There was no response from the taller man. She sighs and turns around to head inside. She’d deal with him later, she decided, after she found her other idiot.

Shuffling inside, she plops her heavy bag down on the dining table with a loud thump as she shakes off her flats, “Rooster! Where are you? Shorty is as still as a statue and isn’t saying a word. What did you do?” She yells out into the house, checking every room she passed for the lanky bastard. She stopped in front of their bedroom door, opening it to find the man she had been calling out for.

There he laid across his bed, face down into the pillow and long legs hanging off the footboard. He laid limp and lifeless, but she knew he was just having one of his dramatic fits.

“What did you two do?” She sighs again, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Only then does the other make a noise. It’s the sound of a dying whale- or a teenager- but it’s an improvement over the dumbass outside.

“ _ Mmph, mnph mmph _ -“

“I can’t hear ya when you talk into the pillow, we’ve talked about this.”

The Irishman lifts his head and lets out a dramatic whine, “An’ then I- an’ ‘e-! An’ ‘e turned- an’ I- an’ then ‘e-! An’ then I  _ ran- _ !”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, this boy, “If you don’t start speaking in actual sentences I swear-“

“ _ I kissed ‘im! _ ”

She froze, eyes wide as she turns to look at him completely, “You did what now?”

He flops his head back down on the mattress and lets out a distressed cry, “On tha  _ cheek _ .”

Her face falls deadpan, “You did what now?”

He flips over onto his back and holds his hands up towards the roof, “I know!” He turns his head to the side, letting an arm flop over his eyes as his other hand clenches dramatically, “Mah life is  _ over _ .”

“Oh quit being so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes, “Have you talked to him?”

He sits up immediately, expression offended, “O’ course no’! I can never show my face aroun’ ‘im again!”

“Mhm.”

“Don’ give me tha’ look! Ya didn’ see i’! I’ was like I killed ‘im! ‘is soul ascended ou’ta ‘is own goddamn body! I traumatized ‘im! I ‘ave ta leave town an’ change my name!” He whines, crawling up into a ball and tugging the sheets over his body, “Jus’ le’ me die.”

“Quit bein’ a dumbass.” She stands up and tears the blankets away making Ronan shout in surprise, “The boy is standing out there in shock, probably hasn’t even gotten the goddamn groceries like I asked him to. Go talk it out like the grown ass men you are.” She orders, making the Irishman whine.

“Bu’-!”

“No buts! Now you go out there and-“

They both turned and looked out through the bedroom door, watching the front screen open to reveal the 7’1 man squeeze through the doorway in a dazed stupor. He seemed to have come back to the realm of the living now, but was still very out of it. The older woman turned around to continue yelling at the dumbass in front of her only to see his face now bright red like a tomato.

She sighed and shook her head. These two really were disasters.

“Go out there and talk to him.”

With a shaky nod Ronan gets up from the bed and robotically shuffles out of the room. He lifts one leg in front of the other awkwardly, thumping down the hallway with nervous sweat running down his forehead. Once he reached the living room Wen turned his head around to look at him and he froze.

“I-“ he fumbles, clamming his mouth shut and looking around the room before side-stepping into the kitchen out of the angel’s sight.

Margo groaned from the bedroom and held her hand to her forehead to nurse her forming headache. Leaving the room and entering the kitchen, all that could be heard was harsh whispering.

“No-!”

“- - now- I swear- - up your ass- -!”

“- - kay!”

Ronan stepped out of the kitchen, Wen still staring at him from the couch. Taking a deep breath the Irishman walked in front of him and looked him in the eyes.

It was a tense silence between them, Wen still out of it and Ronan screaming internally not sure what to say.

He reaches his fist out in front of him, “We cool?”

The angel stares at it, face blank. Ronan swallows and grabs his hand, making them fist bump.

Dropping his hand he then shuffled away, giving a thumbs up to Margo on his way back to the room. Wen sat there dumbfounded, staring at his fist in fascination. Margo just sighs and grabs her purse, she needed to go grocery shopping.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in our characters, please check out both our Tumblr and our Instagram!
> 
> Tumblr:  
> https://redheadedbastards.tumblr.com/  
> Instagram:  
> https://instagram.com/redheadedbastards?igshid=1l0sntfjpcqb1


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